Friction
by EmbattledCurve
Summary: ‘No doubt you prefer anorexic women, whose daily subsistence is nothing but salad, so that they can swoon in your arms’ she said frostily. ‘Oh I don’t see you doing that anytime soon Miss Granger, for one thing you would be quite a leaden weight.’ SS HG
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone, at insistent urging from many of my reviwers, I have finally decided to attempt a multi-chaptered fic on an SS HG pairing. Now I'm not too sure how this is going to turn out, for as all of you'll are probably aware, we as writer's portray our inner emotions in our fics, and let's just say my mind is in turmoil right now. One can say that through these fics, I'm trying to heal myself, and so I'm attempting to stop writing angst for sometime and attempt something a bit more positive. So if I get an adequate response for this fic, I've decided I will continue it.**

**Disclaimer: I'm not wasting anytime on this………go ahead and sue me…….all you'll get are decayed and rotten extracted teeth. Now do you really want that?**

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Chapter 1

Hermione made her way into the Great Hall for breakfast, occasionally nodding at the other teachers, and smiling. The staff had made sure that she felt welcomed admist them, and that she felt quite at home, after all she had spent seven years of her life at Hogwarts, all except _one_. Severus Snape.

Ever since her first day as a Professor, all he had done was throw a perfunctory sneer across her way, it was his way of showing her just how attached he was to her. Okay so what if she was the new Defence Against The Dark Arts Professor? Could he not set aside all this burning resentment that he harboured towards her, for having managed to snatch away the coveted job from under his nose, and just be happy for her?

But no, if he actually did that, then it would mean that he was sadly normal just like anyone else, and he could not allow the reputation of a "malevolant bat", which takes years to master, go down the drain. And so she braced herself for another morning in his very much un-wanted company at breakfast. Call it fate, destiny, the inter twining of the stars, or simply the fact that as she was the most junior Professor, she was the one who had the honor of being seated beside him. All the other Professor's had progressed to being senior enough to choose their own dining partners. Oh these dirty politics!

'Good Morning Professor Snape' she said in a tone as cordial as she could muster, as she took her seat.

His only response was to sneer magnificiently, and then turn his head away and pretend she did not exist. Now her point was if he really did want to pretend that she did in actuality not exist, why did he grace her with a sneer in the first place? It was like saying, "Now I see you, Now I don't." It would be so much more easier on her, if he ignored her throughly in _every_ way, it was this half-and-half which annoyed her. This was neither here, nor there.

And frankly she was much too old to play such childish games, if he expected her to remain intimidated by him, she was sorry but she was rather disinclined to oblige at the age of twenty-one. And so she began to relish her breakfast with great ardour, and cut herself a rather unhealthily large slice of plum cake, and munched happily, when she was suddenly aware of Snape watching her rather keenly. What, it was now a crime to be a healthy eater? She had never been one of those women, who managed to sustain themselves on an assortment of letuces in a day.

She glanced up at him. 'Yes Professor Snape' she enquired politely.

'Miss Granger, I suggest you leave some for dinner, no doubt you will want to skip lunch as you have already eaten in advance' he said stingingly.

That awful man! How dare he make her out to be some sort of glutton? She did not have an eating disorder, she just happened to eat healthy that's all.

Swallowing the mouthful of cake, without managing to choke on it she replied quite frostily 'No doubt you prefer anorexic women, whose daily subsistence is nothing but salad, so that they can swoon in your arms.'

'Oh I don't see you doing that anytime soon Miss Granger, for one thing you would be quite a leaden weight.'

Now she spluttered in indignation. Did that man actually have the gall to call her fat?

'Professor, are you calling me fat?' she said furiously.

'I'm not calling you, I'm telling you, though I'm sure that your mirror must be attempting to do the same every morning, unless you've charmed it to chatter endlessly about how beautiful, and pretty, and cute, and lovely you are, along with any other adjectives you can think of.'

How dare the insufferable man bracket her in the same category as the numerous twits, who preferred to think that bust size was more important than brain capacity? She had been top of her class every year in Hogwart's and he knew it!

'Well atleast I don't spend my mornings preening in front of the mirror, just to watch my robes billow every time I turn and practice menancing glares so that I can attempt to look natural' she retorted.

At this he pursed his lips thinly, allowing his utter dislike for her to be evident.

'Miss Granger, I suggest you channel this unlimited, bounding energy you seem to possess, towards altering your dimensions drastically, and while you are at it, tame that unruly mane, or atleast curb it from giving a porcupine a complex' he said contemptuously, as he prepared to leave the Great Hall.

She watched his retreating back in aghast. She had done her best to be civil to the infuriating man, and all he had done was insult her intelligence, as well as her body proportions! Okay so she tended to eat a little, and she happened to have accumulated a little excess fat in the region of her hips, but that did not automatically make her obese! She dabbed at her lips angrily, and at the same time unconsciously fingered her hair.

She had suddenly for some reason lost her appetite that morning, and getting up she left too. She anyway had her first class with the first years, and she did not wish to be late for her introductory lesson, young minds are very impressionable, they needed to be moulded.

As she hurried along, she suddenly had the irrestible urge to charm her hair straight, not because _he_ had anything to do with it. Oh no, not at all, she had been contemplating this sudden change in appearance since an indeterminable period of time, but had never got around to executing it. It was definately _not_ because he had compared it to a porcupine.

Shrugging the urge aside, she made her way to the class room, where she told them to settle down and open their books. But by the end of the class, she was seriously beginning to consider the merits of taking an oath to never unleash one of these little brats on mankind. The little maggots were probably the spawn's of Hitler, and this was coming from a woman who actually adored children, so one would have no difficulty in imagining the extent of their terrorization.

So all though she had ended up deducting a few house-points, she had been unable to hand out any detentions. She somehow could'nt fathom the idea of children labouring away, scrubbing cauldrons or floors, all in the name of detentions. Somehow, according to her it bordered on child-labour. And so by the end of the day, she could feel a massive migraine rearing it's ugly head, and it had not helped that she had skipped lunch.

Ofcourse it had had nothing to do with Severus's earlier nasty comments, not at all, she had just not found the time. With a regretfull sigh, she headed off towards the Great Hall, her stomach was now rumbling in such a fashion that she could not ignore it, and she most certainly could'nt be bothered by that blasted man.

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Please leave behind a review and let me know what you think, I hope you like it though.**


	2. Chapter 2

**I would have got this up sooner, but I happened to have a very bad eye infection, I still do actually but it's a bit better. The response was absolutely wonderful, and I adore you guys.**

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Chapter 2

She was sleeping, blissfully unaware when this loud metal clanging began, and she woke up with a jolt, and sat upright. At first she had no idea what was going on, and she began to quickly search for the source, and then she realized it was her alarm clock, something she had not used in years. She quickly reached over to her bed stand and shut the damn thing off, before it roused all the other occupants at Hogwarts. It was five in the morning, and she quickly got out of her bed, she had no time to waste.

She quickly changed into a pair of track pants, shrugged on a T shirt and bent over to tie the laces on the sneakers she had just slipped on. She was on her way to achieve a good cardio workout, in the form of a brisk morning jog, something she had never done in her _entire_ life.

When it came to exercise, she was as lazy as a sloth. Ofcourse, her breaking tradition _now_ had nothing at all to do with Severus Snape calling her fat. None whatsoever. She had just decided that she needed a change of lifestyle, yes that was it.

Leaving her quarters silently and noiselessly, she began her brisk jog a little further away from the castle, just in case there were other people out and about at this early hour and she did not want to be seen. She wanted to keep her supposed change in lifestyle a secret. As she began jogging she was aware of how non-fit and non-trim she was. Within fifteen minutes she had begun to pant in a very un-lady like way, infact it would have given a dog a complex, and within the next half hour she had begun to positively gasp for breath, as though the entire reserve of the twenty one percent oxygen in the atmosphere had been used up. Glancing at her wrist watch, she noted that it was close to six, and she hurried back up the steps into the castle. The students were now up and about and she did not want to pave the path for any awkward questions.

Reaching her quarters quickly, she proceeded to change and run a bath. She had to be in the Great Hall for breakfast in an hour, and she was as sweaty as a pig. After a quick shower, she changed into her work robes, and after a moment's indecisiveness, she decided to wear forest green. As she stood in front of the mirror, she was aware of her wet hair dripping water down her back. Quickly grabbing a towel she proceeded to wring all the water out of it, and she then cast a charm for a draft of air to dry it. She surveyed herself and what she saw she did not like.

Her hair though dry, was sticking out at all odd angles. She sighed in frustration. Why couldn't her hair either curl inwards, or outwards? Why did half of it have to curl inwards, and the other half outwards, so that she resembled a pine tree? Grabbing a brush, she wrestled with her wild hair in an attempt to tame it, but she was unsuccessful, and she finally threw it down, and grabbed a rubber band and tied it up in a pony-tail. She was most certainely not going to win the "Most beautiful hair" of the year award any time soon, but she would absolutely _not _straighten her hair, either by charming it or with a hot iron. She was not going to give Severus the satisfaction. She had survived with her hair for twenty-one years hadn't she? No reason why she should'nt do so for the forthcoming.

As she sat down in her seat at the teacher's table, she ignored Severus. She was still miffed at his atrocious comments the previous day, and she did not want to give him an opening for any more. But she avoided the plum cake and instead drank quite a lot of the orange juice and she found herself feeding on quite a lot of cucumber, it was supposed to cool the body, and she could do with some of that in the sweltering heat. Just as she dipped her fork into the papaya, the dratted man decided to make himself heard.

'Miss Granger, you seemed to have forgotten the plum cake this morning, it's quite tasty and I'm sure it misses your attentions' saying so the horrendous man actually proferred the plate.

She stared at him, and then at the plum cake. She could not believe that he could stoop so low.

'May I cut you a slice Miss Granger?'

'No you may not' she snarled and then dug at her papaya with fervour.

'Suit yourself, but it really is tasty' and then the obnoxious man proceeded to cut himself the largest, most un-healthiest slice possible, and not content with that, began munching it right next to her!

That malevolant bat was exploiting her weakness for the plum-cake and he knew it! She found herself staring longingly at him while he munched happily beside her. Just then he turned, and grinned at her, and then continued munching. She scowled and forced herself to tear her eyes away from him. Finishing off the slice of papaya on her plate, she pushed her chair back and left in great strides, she was attempting to put as much distance between herself and Severus as possible within the confines of the castle. She had disliked him as a student, but her dislike for him as a Professor had reached new proportions.

She stomped back to her office, where she spent a good deal of time correcting the parchments of the students, and when it was time for lunch, she delayed it as much as possible, and finally went in the Hall only when ten minutes were left for the lunch hour to end. Noting the absence of Severus thankfully, she sank into her seat and had a quick meal, avoiding all the food which had a high fat content and instead concentrated on increasing her dietary protein and carbohydrate. She barely had time to finish before she rushed off, for she had a class with the sixth years and she could not afford to be late. Infact her entire afternoon was packed with classes and when she did finish the day, all she wanted to do was sink into a comfortable chair, and not move………..ever.

She slowly walked back towards her quarters, although limped would be a better word. She had clearly overdone her morning jog. Accepting the fact that she could not expect to be Maurice Green in a day, and taking it slow would have been the sensible thing, but no. In her haste to rid herself of all the flab, she had not paid one iota of attention to her muscles, which had obviously decided to retaliate by screaming for attention.

Entering her room, she slowly inched her way towards the sofa, and she was wincing with every step. As she lowered herself into the sofa, she let out a curse, for pain coursed through her thighs like tiny needles. As she leaned back she was aware of lancinating pain in her lower back and shoulders, courtesy all the stretching she had done in the morning.

Dreading what she might find, she lifted the hem of her robes slowly, and just as she suspected she was greeted by the sight of massive blood clots on her thighs in the form of deep black bruises. She sighed.

She was most certainely not going to visit Poppy, she had been extremely stupid, the rest of Hogwarts did not need to know about it. And she most certainly did not want Poppy to ask Severus to brew her a muscle- relaxant. She would stubbornly cling on to her pride, and her pain.

Grimacing, she lifted herself out of the sofa, just once. Moving to her dresser she picked up the bottle of "Relispray" and sprayed it over herself liberally, thankgod she had thought to visit the pharmacist in London and stock up on some essential medicines and ointments before she came to Hogwarts, just in case. Moving back slowly to the sofa, she sank in and curled up on it, with a cushion beneath her head, and she slept, right through dinner, and was consequently missing at the Great Hall that night. Noting her absence, Severus frowned.

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I'm glad everyone liked the previous chapter- I want your feed back for this one too.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Since you have been wonderful in the reviews section, I will be wonderful in the updating often section! Atleast till I have the time. Now some of the reviewers wondered if Hermione was going to turn anorexic. The answer is no. Absolutely not! If you have read the previous chapter carefully, I said that her diet was low on fat but rich in proteins and carbohydrates.**

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Chapter 3 

Hermione awoke acutely aware of a crick in her neck. She sat up straight, rubbing her neck as she did so, and lowered her feet to the ground. She rubbed her hand tentatively over her thigh, especially over sore areas, but she was glad to find that the pain had reduced considerably. She stood up and then winced, so the pain had not condensed enough for her to be leaping around, or at any rate to be indulging in extensively quick movements. She stretched herself and was aware that her lower back still hurt, courtesy of being curled up in that damn couch all night. She glanced a quick look at her wrist watch and was a bit startled to see that it was already nine.

Thankfully she did not have a class till ten, but she had already missed breakfast and her stomach was rumbling. Taking a quick shower, she changed into burgandy robes, tied her hair in a pony and slipping her feet into a pair of comfortable flats she moved towards the teacher's lounge.

She entered and took a quick glance around. None of the Professor's happened to be present. They all probably had class or were in their office correcting parchments. She had a pile of that too, still pending. Whatever was she going to do. But first things first. She needed her cup of hot morning tea. She absolutely detested coffee. Even the smell, although both her parent's were avid coffee consumers. The fact that her parent's were now addicted to that caramel colured drink probably had something to do with it. And she did not drink more than a cup or two in a day, and if she could do without it, she managed. But not today.

What she really loved about the teacher's lounge was that it was equipped with a small stove, so that one could even prepare small snacks at odd hours of the day, if one so wished, and not depend upon the house elves. Opening the cupboard she took out the packet of tea powder, added water to the saucepan, and then two spoons of tea powder and set it to boil, adding a glass of milk.

As she waited for her tea to boil, she leaned against the granite and was actually fighting against falling asleep on her feet. Just then she heard a rustle next to her. Opening her eyes she saw Severus adding another two spoons of tea, sugar and some more milk to the pan. She blinked at him owlishly.

'You drink tea.' It was an extremely stupid observation, considering the fact that the man added enough tea powder to pour two cups.

'Yes I suppose I do Miss Granger.' Now one might make the rather mistaken observation that he was not a morning person, but she knew better, he was not a person for needless conversation at any time of the day.

Severus opened the cupboard and began rummaging around, while she looked on. Finally he removed a blue box and she craned her neck to see what it was, the man was awfully tall.

He removed a chocolate biscuit and popped it into his mouth. It had little nuts embedded in it.

'You eat chocolate biscuits?'

Putting the carton down he turned around to face her.

'Yes Miss Granger I happen to like chocolate biscuits in addition to being a tea consumer. Is there any other query that you have regarding my dietary constraints, for I would be happy to oblige.'

She flushed, the man was impossible. All she was trying to do was make polite conversation. He did not have to look down at her from his over bearing height. He was now watching her, his arms folded across his chest. She looked away, hoping the milk would boil soon and she could just leave.

Just then the milk began to boil and he switched the stove off, removing two china cups and saucers, and he poured each of them a cup, straining the milk first. She probably should thank him, but before she could do so, he picked up his cup and moved towards the other end of the room and sat down, signalling that the conversation had ended.

'Thanks,' she muttered, and picking up her cup she moved towards the sofa and sat down with one foot underneath her, momentarily forgetting her sore thighs, of which she was instantly reminded by the immense pain. She let out an inadvertant yelp, while the tea sloshed over the rim of the cup and onto the saucer, spilling over the edge onto her fingers.

Leaning forward she placed the cup and saucer on the coffee-table before her and hastily removed her leg from beneath her, aware that Severus's eyes were boring into her. She got up slowly, not wishing to let on anything regarding her stupidity the previous day, and moved towards the sink to wash her tea stained fingers. Once again when she returned to her seat, she sat down at an extremely odd angle, supporting herself on the arm of the sofa, as she gently dropped herself. Refusing to meet his eyes she picked up her tea and sipped it slowly.

Why could'nt that man say something, anything. The air was so thick it could be cut with a knife and the silence deafening. All he did was sit across her, his legs lazily crossed at the knee and drink his tea, as though she was not there. Whatever happened to small talk? Just then he uncrossed his legs, and got up in a fluid movement.

She watched his back as he moved towards the sink, and she couldn't but help notice that he moved with a lithe grace, for a man so tall. He washed his cup and saucer, and somehow that perfectly normal action surprised her. Lots of people preferred washing up after themselves, but to see him so……..disciplined was rather unnerving. He left the room in a swirl of black. She heaved a sigh of relief.

Now that he was gone, she could let out all the moans she had been supressing for so long in his presence. She re-arranged her feet in a more comfortable fashion, so that she was more relaxed. Finishing off her tea, she leaned forward and placed her cup on the table before her, and then leaned back on the sofa.

She still had another fifteen minutes to go, before it was time for her class, and she did not want to get up, she could feel slightly drowsy. Resting her head in the crook of her arm, she curled up. Just then she heard a loud CRACK.

Opening her eyes, she saw a house elf bowing before her. She did not recognize this house elf.

'Yes,' she said hesitantly, wondering what the elf wanted.

Holding out a tiny jar the elf said slowly, 'Master Snape wanted you, Miss Granger to have this.'

Reaching out, she took the jar in her hand and gazed at it, wondering what it was. She had most certainely not asked Snape for any ointment, for that was what was in the jar, in a cool blue colour.

'Master said it had to be applied on the affected area, and you will get instant relief from the pain Miss Granger,' the elf added helpfully.

'Err Thankyou.'

Bowing low, the elf disappeared with another resounding CRACK.

Opening the jar, she sniffed delicately and it had a rather pleasant aroma. She dipped her fingers into the jar and then applied some over one of her bruises on her thigh, and she was greeted by a lovely, tingling feeling which soon spread over her thigh. The feeling was icy. She prodded her bruise, and she felt no pain. Dipping her fingers into the jar once more, she applied it liberally over her aching lower back, as well as her bruised thighs.

Closing the jar, she got up and she could feel absolutely no pain. Cautiously she flexed first one foot and then another, not even a tiny twinge. Now moving over to the counter, she picked up the carton and popped a chocolate biscuit in her mouth, it tasted heavenly.

As she bit into the biscuit she realized that she knew practically nothing about the resident Potions Master, although she had known of his existence for the past eleven years, and all she knew was that he liked chocolate biscuits and drank tea. The man was a real enigma, she would have never thought that he would be the type to indulge in chocolate biscuits, nor to bestow upon her an instant-relief pain balm. Suddenly she found herself fighting back the most irresistable urge to know him in greater intimacy.

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I'm awaiting your feedback eagerly. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Well, this is probably going to be my last quick update, I'm back in college tomorrow after a week long break. Of course I will update this fic, it just might not be that quick anymore. I now want to address some issues. A couple of reviewers had some comments on the way Hermione and Snape made their tea.**

**In response to one, yes tea powder does exist. Just as coffee beans are ground to give us coffee powder in the form of Nescafe, tea leaves are dried, processed and then ground into tea powder, or alternatively you have tea bags, in which the tea powder has already been filled, and the thin paper of the bag acts as a filter.**

**Another said that was not how tea was made ever. I beg to differ. Different cultures make tea in different ways. Some have it without milk and some have it with milk. Again the Chinese have a very different way to make their own tea and it tastes very different. This is how I and millions of other's have been making tea for a number of centuries. So just because my way of making tea differs from yours does not mean that it's the wrong way to make it. Believe me, tea made my way tastes fantastic, maybe even as well as tea made your way.**

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Chapter 4

Hermione strode purposefully towards her desk. This whole early morning jogging routine was not working out for her. Thanks to Severus's balm, her aches and pains had disappeared. But her inclination to get up early in the morning and run around had vanished. There had to be another way to lose weight in selected areas, namely her bottom and her thighs. She was well aware that she was resembling a pear. And there had to be a less strenuous way to lose it too.

Dipping her quill in the ink, she paused momentarily wondering who to address it too. It would be of no use to address it to Ginny, that girl was ruler-straight, she did not need to lose weight. She was not very enthusiastic about asking Harry, for ever since he and Ginny had become a couple, he was hardly ever around anymore. It was actually revolting the way he and Ginny seemed joined at the hip. Whatever happened to needing your own space, and doing your own thing, at least every once in a while. So that left only Ron. She would have to word it very carefully.

_Dear Ron,_

_I know it's been a long time since I wrote, but classes are hectic. I never realized that teaching would be this demanding both in terms of my mental and physical health. This is not to say I'm being overworked, or that I'm falling ill. It's just that I feel I should take care of myself and exercise every once in a while. What do you suggest? Something not too strenuous, and something I might even enjoy doing. I tried an early morning work-out routine in the form of jogging, but it didn't seem to work out._

_Please reply as soon as possible. Give my love to your parent's, Ginny and Harry._

_Love,_

_Hermione._

Placing her quill back on the table, she re-read her letter, and satisfied that she had given away nothing, she went to the owlery and borrowed one of the school owls. On her way back, she decided to stop by and meet Severus. She wanted to thank him, and she wanted to do it personally. He need not have given her that balm, and yet he did. Stopping outside his office, she raised her hand to knock, and then paused, momentarily indecisive. Would he even be in his office? It was after all a Sunday, and more importantly, was she dressed appropriately? She began to fidget with her clothes, and then realizing that she was behaving like a love-struck teenager, she stopped at once. Her faded jeans and equally faded T shirt would have to do. And since when did she care what he thought of her, or her attire for that matter? Smoothening her hair, which she had twisted into a plait, although unruly tendrils had still managed to escape, she finally knocked.

At first, there was no response, and she wondered if maybe he was in his personal quarter's, and just as she was about to leave, she heard him.

'Enter.'

The same crisp voice, in the same tone, when she used to serve her extremely occasional detentions with him.

Opening the door cautiously she looked in. At first she could not see him behind his desk, his trade mark scowl firmly in place. And then she saw him. He was standing on a step ladder, and re-arranging books on the upper shelf of his book-case. And what she saw, made her swallow a sudden lump.

He was in black jeans and a black silk shirt, the jeans clinging to his hips, emphasizing the leanness of his thighs, while the shirt moved over his broad shoulders and taut stomach like second skin. She found her eyes trailing it's buttons down the front, and realizing where this was leading, she snapped her eyes back to his face. He was devastatingly handsome, and she had never seen him dressed in a pair of jeans before. What was so splendid about being clothed in jeans? Innumerable people did the same, and she did not find herself reacting to every one of them in the same fashion.

But for some reason, the sight of him in the same, made her breath catch in her throat. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that in all these years, she had never been presented with the opportunity to see him so……….casual.

Without sparing her even a glance, his words cracked across the stillness of the room, 'What do you want Miss Granger?'

Now most people would have said, 'What can I do for you Miss Granger?' she thought wryly, but then Severus wasn't most people, and what she got out of him, was the best she was ever going to get.

'I wanted to thank you,' and holding out the tiny jar, which was now almost empty she finished lamely, 'and return this.'

At this he spared her a casual glance, before returning to the task at hand.

'You were not supposed to slather that on like some after-bath moisturizer Miss Granger. It was meant to be dabbed.'

At this she flushed. What was she supposed to say? That she was so caught up in the comforting tingly feeling that she used it all up?

'I will now have to prepare a fresh batch.'

She straightened her shoulder's. She had had enough of his patronizing tone, and she was not going to tolerate any more.

'I will prepare the batch, since I used it all up.' She was not going to let him get away with acting as though he had seen fit to bestow upon her the very elixir. And she felt competent enough to be able to prepare it, even though it had not been covered in her NEWTS.

He gave her a humourless smile. 'Much as I would like to click my heels in merriment at the thought, no thank you, Miss Granger.'

She could feel her temper rise. The way he patronizingly referred to her as "Miss Granger" irritated the hell out of her. He made her feel like an old school marm in a puritanical society. Why couldn't he just call her by her first name, like he did so with all the other Professors?

'I believe my name is Hermione.'

Ignoring her completely all he said was, 'Is that all Miss Granger?'

She clenched her hands in frustration. 'No, as a matter of fact Professor Snape. If you will be kind enough to leave the instructions and ingredients and let me know when the dungeons are free, I will brew you a fresh batch..'

'That won't be necessary Miss Granger.'

'Oh I believe it is. Since I used it all up, like my after-bath moisturizer, I will personally replenish it. That is unless you don't trust my potion making skills.'

There. Now she had left the ball in his court.

His lip curled, as he assessed her. Had she still been a student, he would have deducted an indeterminable amount of points at her impudence and impertinence. Unfortunately she was no longer one, all though still impudent and impertinent, and he did not know quite how to send her fleeing back to the safety of the Potter and Weasely brats. Fact still remained that the stubborn chit was still bothering him by crossing her arms defiantly and tapping her foot, on his office floor.

Just then she turned her head, directly in line with the ray of light that filtered in from the open door. And as the sun shine stole over her auburn curls, reflecting a golden hue, he had a vivid picture of spun gold. He took in her oval face, scrubbed clean and devoid of all the muck that women generally seemed to cake on, in the name of make-up. Her hazel eyes were breathing fire, daring him to contradict her, and her lips were the colour of a rose-bud in full bloom, and was begging to be kissed.

What was wrong with him? He was behaving like a hormonal pre-pubescent, and he had to put a stop to it.

'As you wish Miss Granger. Will tonight at eight do,' he said coldly.

She nodded her head, and then left wordlessly, slamming the door shut behind her, as indication of how much he incensed her. His lip curled, as he scowled. She had looked beautiful.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry for the long wait, college is a bit hectic. I'm aware that this chapter has a little less of humor, all though the genre says humor and romance, but I cannot help it, for I'm writing with the flow. I hope you don't mind.**

Chapter 5

Hermione folded her clothes with neat precision as she placed them back in her cupboard. She was bored out of her wits, and she had nothing better to occupy her mind with. She could still hear the nasty man's sarcastic intonation and she scowled, perfectly reminiscent of the said nasty man.

Opening her cupboard she re-arranged her clothes, and finally slammed the oak-paneled doors shut. She was irritated, and why the hell was it taking Ron so long to reply? Just as she was about to re-arrange her table next, she heard a soft tap at the window of her quarters. There stood a very beautiful tawny owl, clucking her beak and hooting gently.

Opening the window she let it in. Ron had acquired a new owl and had named it Augustus, but when you compared the bird's temperament to it's regal name, one was actually astounded to find that it was very docile and actually extremely affectionate. This was demonstrated by the owl swooping in and settling herself on Hermione's shoulders and lovingly pecking her ear-lobes while she undid the parchment from it's leg and sat down to read it.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I'm glad to know that you are finally realizing the merits of exercise, in more ways than one. What I would suggest is a brisk morning jog for a half hour. You could also attempt to hone your flying skills, you will be amazed at the amount of calories you burn. Let me know how it works out._

_Love,_

_Ron._

She inhaled sharply. Ron had actually grown wise where women were concerned. She couldn't help but feel a sudden jolt of happiness. All the past years of trying to drill some semblance of sense in his head had finally paid off. He had finally grown up, completed the transition from boyhood to manhood. Realizing that she was now getting overtly dramatic, she applied the brakes on her train of thought.

Now obviously the morning jog was not working out for her, so maybe she should try the latter option. The only problem was she was not sure if she could ride a broom, heck she didn't even own one. And she had not been too keen on taking flying lessons back in her first year. What a pity. Maybe if she had known that she could attain a well-rounded figure with practically no effort on her part, it would have been a better incentive to hoist herself a few hundred feet off the ground.

But first things first. Since she did not have a broom, she would have to borrow one of the school's. And for that she would have to rummage around in the school's broom shed. Sighing she placed the letter in her draw, and left to make her way towards the old broom shed on the far side of the Quidditch pitch. As she walked over the pitch, she glanced at the Gryffindor team practicing. Surrounding them were a couple of other students, encouraging them. Satisfied that no one had noticed her, and was not interested in what she was doing on the pitch, she made her way to the shed.

As she opened the door, which gave a long suffering groan, she glanced about to see if any students were around. If anyone was to see her, it would lead to awkward speculations both among the students as well as the staff, which she did not wish to indulge in. Stepping inside the musty room, she let out a cough as dust filled her nostrils. Taking care to not disturb anymore of the layered filth accumulated over the generations, she let her eyes get gradually accustomed to the dim light filtering in through the door-way.

There were a couple of dusty brooms lying about, which had obviously not seen daylight since god alone knew when. Once again she had absolutely no idea what broom would be better suited to her, and frankly she did not care. She assessed her options before her, there were around a dozen brooms before her. Five of them had broken handles, three were too small, another three had the wood splintering, and that left only one broom which did not have splintered wood, a broken handle or seem unusually small. That was the one she picked.

Having made her choice, she hurried back to the safety of her quarters. And that is where she remained till the grey of the dusk filtered over the Quidditch pitch and it had been deserted by the students. If she was going to make a fool of herself, she preferred to do it alone.

She walked quickly over to the pitch, holding the broom. Once she reached the pitch, she inhaled deeply. The broom gave a slight quiver, as though to let her know that it was ready. The only problem was she was not………..and she didn't think she would ever be.

Carefully she swung her leg over the broom, and balanced herself on the handle and seemed to take an eternity before she let her full weight rest on it. But it seemed as though the broom had been waiting for her to do just that, and it took off, with Hermione shrieking in terror. But in the huge gusts of wind, her cries were lost. She tried desperately to guide the broom out of the looming thicket of trees and just managed to avoid them by swerving sharply towards the left.

Her breathing now extremely asthmatic, she turned fearfully over her shoulder at the trees she had just passed, consequently completely ignoring where she was heading presently, and when she did, it was too late. She was going to crash, straight into the turrets of the north tower of the castle.

She let out a piercing yell, and ducked bracing herself for the imminent crash, but it never came. Gasping she peered cautiously, it was now dark and she could gradually make out the silhouette of a person, leaning casually against one of the turrets, and at the same time she was aware that her broom was suspended in still air, inches away from the hard, cold stone wall.

'Miss Granger, do us all a favour and dispense with the hysterics. I'm sure you would awaken the dead if that's possible.'

At that moment, she had never been gladder to hear the sarcastic syllables leave his lips.

'P-Professor, please lower the broom,' she practically begged.

She could see him flick his wand lazily, and the broom lowered itself a fraction, so that all she had to do was step off the broom and join him on the narrow ledge. But she could not bring herself to do it. She had visions of herself reaching untimely demise due to her foot slipping and crashing five hundred feet or so. Involuntarily a cry escaped her throat.

Severus looked thoroughly annoyed. 'Miss Granger, either step off that broom this instant or practice your heroic feats elsewhere,' he snarled.

But she did not move a muscle, she was petrified in the least and she was unable to even shift her eyes which seemed fixed upon the distant ground, awaiting her.

'Miss Granger, I do not have time to play hero to stupid women who fantasize on being saved from the chasms of death by a dashing young man on a white steed. Move onto the ledge.' He was gritting his teeth.

He had every right to be viciously gnashing his teeth, how dare the idiotic fool interfere when he was engaging in peaceful solitude? Did she not know that he was an extremely reclusive person, who resented interference of all sorts. He was most certainly not going to play chaperone to her, keeping her out of trouble. He honestly felt like spanking her tight bottom, and in all his years of teaching, he had never yet been tempted to raise his hand on a student. But then she no longer was his student, now was she? So he was actually free to deal with her, exactly how he wanted, and there was no Potter and Weasely for her to go running off too. He might even enjoy it.

'Miss Granger, for the last time move from that broom, or else I cannot be held responsible for my actions.' He sighed. The woman was worth her weight in trouble.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Sighing Severus did what he had never before done in his life. He offered his hand to a woman. Hermione stared shakily at the proffered hand before her, and then glanced at him. His face seemed completely wiped of emotion. Where before there had been irritation and annoyance, now showed if anything only slight reluctance.

Hermione winced. What did she expect? That Severus was going to come leaping towards her with wild cries of "Hermione My Darling, do not fret, for here I am to rescue you……." Okay she had to stop fantasizing about Severus as her dashing Prince. It was really unnerving. Maybe she should visit a psychiatrist…………she made a mental note to do so on her next visit to London.

Psychiatrists were, let's say a very expensive past time. You spent exorbitant amounts of money on them just so that you could hear them tell you what you had known all along, giving you an opportunity tosave your crisp notes, if only you had admitted it to yourself. It probably felt better coming from a "professional" though, for you better take his advice if you insisted on driving yourself to bankruptcy.

She placed her palm in his hand but she still felt unable to step off the stupid broom. She instead stared at his face, or more precisely into his eyes. It was such a perfect opportunity to determine the exact shade of his piercing black eyes and depth, and to wonder if there was something glittering in there, or maybe even lurking. How wonderful. And the heroine finds romance while staring death, but that's just how it always is. Now she was beginning to scare herself.

Severus was running out of patience, actually he had run out of it a long time ago, now he had run out of reserves. He wrapped his arm around her slim waist and in one smooth, fluid movement he lifted her off the broom and onto the safety of solid ground. She gazed at him with a vacant and rather dazed expression. And he did not like it one bit. He was just not used to women forget dazed women.

He shook her sharply. 'Miss Granger pull yourself together.' But "pull herself together" she did not. Severus was aghast. The woman was leaning on his shoulder, resting her head. Before he could open his mouth and say another word, Hermione shifted so that her head was nestled in his chest, and she inhaled deeply. The musky scent was quite intoxicating. Severus instantly stiffened, but Hermione seemed not to notice it. 'Hermione…' he began again, but the sight of her sweet face, in all it's child-like innocence made him stop. And he would never admit it, but her head on his chest felt just right.

He wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her back with a gentleness he did not know that he possessed. This woman did things to him……….funny things………..and she made him do funny things too. Unconsciously his hand began to stroke her hair. He could not but admire its silken texture, and the way the strands seemed to slip through his fingers. He sniffed the air delicately. He could have sworn that he smelt flowers. Startled he realized that the lingering fragrance was wafting to his nose from her hair.

Sighing he bent and lifted her off the ground and began the long walk back, down the cold stony steps, through the narrow, dark, unlit hallways, then up the stairs to the wing that led to the Professors quarters, until he stopped beneath a portrait which had splashes of blue, green, carmine and ochre. It was an "abstract" as termed in the Muggle world, but he had bought it and charmed it. The colours were extremely soothing. 'China Rose' he whispered the password.

Entering his quarters in slow strides, for he had no intention of waking the sleeping beauty in his arms, he crossed the living room and entered his bedroom, and paused for a moment on the threshold, for no woman had entered before. Smiling briefly, he crossed the threshold and deposited the warm bundle in his hands on the pristine white sheets. Before he could stop himself, he was brushing a stray strand of auburn hair from her creamy forehead. Her breathing was even, and he could see the rise and fall of her chest. Shocked at himself for his indiscretion, he at once straightened and took a step backwards.

She looked so beautiful. Bending down he removed her boots, and could not help but stare as he slipped them off her delicate ankles. Covering her with a soft duvet, he caressed her forehead. What was so special about this girl? Why did she have this effect on him………..he was a grown man, not some gawking adolescent. Why did she bring out the sudden urge within him to protect her? And he knew that if he looked really deep, find the answer he would, but the question was did he want to?

He did not claim to understand the myriad of events in his life that were at best left misunderstood. But this………….this was different. He wanted to grasp her tightly and never let her go. The thought scared him, so much so he left abruptly and entering his living room sank onto the sofa and tried to quell the growing panic within him. He had never before felt this way. He was simply not the sort of man to "panic" at anything, least of all funny feelings that his common sense told him to forget and move on.

He massaged his temples forcefully; he could feel the onset of a massive migraine. The woman had managed to turn his entire world upside-down, right from the very first day she had arrived. And he had no idea what to do about it. And he suspected that he did not want to do anything about it.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Hermione awoke in a very soft bed, which was not hers to very strange sounds. She had a number of illusions as to what the sound could be, but she preferred to not dwell on them. Creeping out of bed, she made it a point to be as quiet as possible. She stealthily crept across the room, and she was aware that she looked really ridiculous; who was she trying to hide from anyway? Poking her head from outside the bedroom, she had to rub her eyes to believe what she was seeing. She pushed her unruly tangled hair from out of her face and moved forward to get a closer look.

There was Severus, quite comfortable on the arm chair in his living room, with his mouth slightly open and snoring softly. She stared at him. And when she was done with that she watched the rise and fall of his chest and then began to compare it's rhythm with that of his snores. When she was done with that she began to define a pitch to his snores and wonder if they were infact musical. And that was when she realized that she was definitely crazy and that normal people did not do that. They had other more interesting hobbies to pursue. But then normal people did not wake up in a strange mans bed now did they? Now there was a thought to ponder upon. But she did not care to.

She tilted her head slightly to her left, she just wanted to see how much of his mouth was open, and she had the irresistible urge to maybe a pop a few peanuts in it. But then the outline of his mouth caught her fancy, and she couldn't but help trace its outline mentally. She found it quite sensuous and she quelled the desire to trace it with her finger. The position she was in was quite awkward and before she knew it she had lost her balance, and she crashed to the floor with a loud thud.

She looked up to find Severus looking at her with unconcealed sleepiness. She scrambled up in undignified haste. Severus suppressed a yawn and then said in a husky tone 'Your hair, it's sticking out like a pine tree.'

She quickly ran her fingers through it in a futile attempt to straighten it out and look a little presentable. God did he have to sound so damn sexy, so damn early in the morning? Still yawning, Severus uncrossed his long lean legs and got up rubbing his neck. He was way too old to be sleeping in arm chairs. He smiled sardonically. It was not like he had a teenage daughter who he was waiting up for, late at night to pounce upon the unsuspecting boy who had found the courage to date her.

Hermione was aware that flies would pop inside her mouth if she did not shut it, and quickly at that. But she couldn't help it. The man had actually smiled. 'I'm sorry to have bothered you, I will be going now.'

Severus opened a walnut coloured cupboard in the kitchen and picked out two china cups and saucers and laid them out on the table. 'You haven't bothered me anymore than you have in the past couple of years, so you might as well stay for a cup of tea.'

She couldn't believe her ears. Was he actually inviting her to stay for a cup of tea? Nah, she must have heard wrong. So she repeated her last sentence, 'I will be going now.'

'Hermione shut up and sit down.'

She stared at him some more and then realizing she was acting like a love-struck teenager and not like the mature young woman she professed, she drew up a chair and sat down. It seemed that there was a lot to the Professor that she did not know. Infact she did not know him at all. For example she had no idea that divested of his cloak and tie, in a simple white shirt and straight black trousers, he could look undeniably sexy. The first button on his shirt was undone, and she was looking at the hair curling on the smooth chest. She felt her throat turn dry.

He had used her first name for the first time and he was quite glad that he had done so. He was tired of the silly formality of calling her 'Miss Granger' and he couldn't bring himself to call her 'Professor'. Not because he was against her being one or some such sexist rubbish, but he just couldn't picture the tiny waif-like bundle at his kitchen table as one. As he poured them both a cup of steaming tea, he could notice her fiddling with her hair from the corner of eye. Why did the girl further aggravate the mess?

'Will you stop tugging and pulling at it from different angles. It does not help. Your hair still looks as though a rat has chewed its way through it.'

His words had an immediate effect on her. She stopped. At once. He could see a faint blush creeping across her neck. She then began drumming on the kitchen table with her fingers. Severus sighed. That girl was so jittery. She reminded him of a trapped cat howling to be let out. If only she would relax, so that he could to, and recapitulate the events of the previous night.

'So what happened last night? All I remember is being petrified on the broom.'

Setting the cup before her, he pulled out a chair opposite her and sitting down, sipped at his own cup of tea. 'Believe me, you don't want to know.'

'I think I do.'

The girl had not changed. She was as much a pain as she had been, infact she was more of a pain now.

'Fine. You were stupid enough to get onto that damn broom, and then you kept howling that you were scared to death, and you would not step off that stupid broom either. I was sitting on the terrace, recapitulating the events of the day, and enjoying my solitude when you crashed in, and demanded that you be saved and I be the one to do it. And when I did, instead of being suitably grateful and being off on your way to do whatever it is that you women do at that hour of the night, curling your hair, putting blush on your cheeks or some such thing, you insisted on falling asleep on my shoulders, so that I had to play the role of a perfect gentleman and lend you my bed while I did the honorable thing of sleeping on the arm chair. And let me tell you that it's darn uncomfortable and my neck still hurts. Basically you were a damn nuisance.'

And with that he sipped his tea once more. She was speechless. The man did not mince words. And this time a blush crept across her cheeks. And Severus found perverse pleasure in it.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

She stared at him. God he could be such an annoying bat. Her mental concentration at calling him further vile names was disturbed by the pattering of feet. Such a noise was only made by small children or………..a very adorable white and ochre coloured basset hound with long droopy ears.

There was pin drop silence in the room. Severus stared at Hermione, and she at him and then both at the basset. It gave a short bark, wagging its tail vigorously to and fro, before moving forward and sniffing Hermione. Once done with the customary sniff, it moved towards Severus and gazed at him with lovely onyx coloured eyes, lovingly still wagging its tail. Severus stared back. Not in the least intimidated by Severus and his stares, the little basset hound leaped on his lap, and proceeded to lick his unshaven chin, before comfortably settling himself.

Hermione now looked at Severus enquiringly. And Severus looked back quite impassively.

'Is that your dog?'

'It may be. It may not be.'

'Is it or is it not your dog? Now quit skirting the issue.'

'Ah skirts……..' and his face dissolved into a boyish smile, 'pity they don't wear much of them around here.'

'Severus.'

'Hermione.' He was quite content to play the name-calling game.

'What's your dog's name?'

'Your tea is untouched. Would you like for me to re-heat it?'

Hermione sighed. The man could be such a god damn pain. Picking up her tea she sipped it slowly. It was pleasantly lemon flavoured, her favourite. Now how did he know that? Did he use Leglimency on her? She glanced at him suspiciously. The old man was gently tickling the basset behind its ears, and it was enjoying the attention.

'The tea is wonderful. Severus what is its name?'

'What is what's name? My name is Severus and yours is Hermione.'

'Really. I had absolutely no idea. Now either you start talking or I make it talk' and she gestured towards the hound.

Severus burst into a coughing fit, spluttering while mouthing something which sounded suspiciously like scoot.

'What did you say? I couldn't quite catch it.'

'Oh all right', said the old man irritably. 'His name is Scoot.'

Hermione burst out laughing. Severus simply glared at her.

'Scoot……..Who in their right mind would name their dog that?'

'It was not my wish to name it that. It was not my wish to even own it in the first place!'

Quickly finishing her tea, she got up and gently lifted the cute basset from his lap and placing it on hers, she sat down once again. The hound made little crooning noises, as it snuggled against her.

'It's really friendly.'

Severus snorted. 'It has to learn to not be so trusting.'

'Severus for heaven's sake don't turn it cynical like you.'

'I'm not cynical; I'm just not mis-informed.'

'How wonderful of you. So why the name Scoot?'

Severus sighed, stretching his legs out. The pesky girl would not leave him in peace unless he told her what she wanted, and he really wanted to curl up in his bed and sleep the sleep of the dead.

'I happened to be passing a Muggle dog-pound, and there he was whining pitifully. He somehow decided that I was going to rescue him and that I'm going to be his new owner. So while I was trying to dissuade him of any such illusions, by yelling "Scoot", he decided that he rather liked his new name, and yelped in pleasure. Now he doesn't respond to anything else.'

Hermione grinned. 'So you do have a heart. He really is sweet.'

'Humph. He happened to be starved. He was just a bag of bones.'

Hermione rubbed Scoot's glossy coat, while tickling his fat belly.

'You've taken very good care of him.'

He yawned in response. Why wouldn't the woman go already?

Hermione rose from the chair, Scoot still in her arms. 'I should be leaving. I have a class with the seventh years first thing today.'

Severus grunted non-commitally.

'Can I come and see Scoot once in a while?' Hermione tickled its ears fondly. 'He seems to like me.'

Severus rubbed his eyes tiredly. 'I don't really mind. He'll like Voldemort too. That mutt does not know friend from foe. Shut the door on the way out.'

Hermione watched him get up and move towards his bedroom like a big, grizzly, old bear. There was a whole new side to her Professor which she did not know.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Hermione was acting weird. She was rushing through all the lessons in the day, acting jittery. Like a bat waiting to get out of hell. She couldn't help it. For some inexplicable strange reason, she found herself being irresistibly drawn towards a particular mahogany door on the fourth floor, in the staff quarter wing. The door was permanently shut, giving one the impression that it just might be slammed in their face.

She had a very strong urge to pay a visit to Severus. Yes _the_ Severus. As the bell rang signaling the end of the lesson, she grabbed her books and swept out in a whirlwind. She literally ran all the way and banged on the door breathlessly.

'One hundred points for being so impertinent……….." he trailed off as he saw who it was. He scowled.

"You can't take points Severus" saying so she brushed past him.

"And I dearly regret it" he muttered. God the chit was such a pest. What did she want now?

"What do you want?" he snarled. He was irritable and grouchy and bad tempered just like always, and her impatient banging had just got him all the more tetchy.

But she scarcely heard him. "Hello darling" saying so, she bent and tickled a little furry chin. Responding with equal enthusiasm, the little fur ball rolled over and wagged his cute little paws in the air, yelping short barks.

Severus stared in disbelief. That little attention seeker! He would turn his furry back on the very hand that fed him, all in favour of a brunette. One thing was clear. She wore a halo as far as a lot of people were concerned, including Scoot.

He snarled in silence. He did not like being favoured over other people. He did not like being favoured over by a dog. He did not like it when a dog was favoured over him. He did not like it at all. Scoot was now scampering around on the floor, wanting Hermione to play his favourite game. He would pick up a ball and run and would in turn demand to be chased. He was unlike other dogs that preferred to do the chasing. He stood against the door post, arms folded, taking in the scene before him.

He had never before seen Hermione so relaxed. Unmindful of how silly she looked, crouching on the floor and chasing a tiny four legged creature, she somehow looked innocent. And if he looked really hard and let his imagination run, just a tiny bit, he might see the golden sheen surrounding her head. He shook his head, wondering if finally all those years of supposed servitude to Voldemort had taken its toll on him, and he had finally turned mad. If he was indeed mad though, it was a wonderful feeling. He smiled a little loony smile.

Walking past them, he went into the kitchen and opened the cupboards above the stove. He was hunting for the treats he usually kept quite well hidden. And he did not like to share. So it was no wonder when a couple of minutes later Hermione walked in with Scoot in her arms, to catch him munching chocolate chip cookies, eyes closed, enjoying the delicious taste and if she had heard quite clearly, making little munching noises such as "Mmnnn".

"What are you doing?"

Caught in the seemingly private act, his eyes shot open. Shoving the rest of the unfinished cookie into his mouth, he muttered a hurried "Nothing". When she continued to stare at him, with exceedingly large luminous eyes, he snapped "A grown man needs to eat for sustenance."

With arched eyebrows she responded, "This coming from the man who claimed cakes were unhealthy and fattening!"

"Yes well I changed my mind. Male prerogative and all." He could hear himself. He sounded ridiculously defensive. Lots of people had very weird fetishes. Chocolate happened to serve as a stress buster for him. He did not need to defend his motives to anyone, least of all a woman half his size and a droopy basset.

She looked at him rather queerly. "Severus it would not hurt to share" saying so she put her palm out.

Looking suitably mortified for a second at the thought of having to share his precious cookies, he immediately jammed the jar shut and tried desperately to shove it away out of sight all the while muttering, "There's no more".

Hands on her hips, Hermione blared, "Yes there are you selfish man. Give me some this instant. No wonder Scoot is so starved."

Severus stared at her appalled. Did she just trumpet at him like some overgrown elephant? And as far as Scoot being starved, one look at his fat belly and glossy coat and you would know it was all hog wash. He personally sat and combed that mutt's mane until it achieved the sleek shine everyday day! Mutely he handed over the jar to her.

He watched her remove four fat cookies from his precious jar, put two in her mouth and then feed the mutt the remaining two, all the while cooing some nonsense about how starved, underprivileged and down trodden he happened to be simply because he belonged to one Severus Snape! He could feel his hackles rising. Without another word, he stalked off. He had no patience with all this claptrap. Shrugging, he put on his robe, gathered up his books and wand and proceeded towards the dungeons. He had to get away from her. The woman was driving him insane.


	10. Chapter 10

I know it's been a long time, just couldn't help it. Trying to achieve a second doctorate is not easy.

Chapter 10

She got to him in a way no one did. Quite unnerving really. He really couldn't pin point what it was that ticked him off. He was basically a self sustained guy, shut off from the world in general. He liked playing dungeons and potions in his spare time, and he most certainly did not like it when it was invaded. As he placed the books on the desk, and sank down into his arm chair, he scowled. Placing his feet on his desk he crossed them, tapping his boots together absent mindedly, his arms resting behind his head.

The problem with Snape was that when confronted by the unknown, he had a tendency to slip back into his safety net, which was usually the dungeons. He had caught on a long time ago that he was the only one really comfortable in the musty, mouldy place. So he could be assured of solitude. He was ticked off. Coming to the dungeons because he wanted to was very different from _escaping _to it. The latter amounted to running away. The muscle above his eyebrow began to twitch. He feared no one. Never had and never will. So what was it then? He had never lifted a finger to assist another in his life, human or otherwise, why her? She could have screamed all she wanted on the broom, all he had to do was summon a house elf to take care of the disaster that she was. What was she thinking anyway? Broom riding was not for everyone. He had pegged her for owning a tad more common sense than Potter and Weasley, looks like he was wrong. He sighed. Before he realized his thoughts wandered off to the genuine joy she had expressed when she met Scoot for the first time. His face softened. At first she had been the insufferable know-it-all, but know-it-all or not, she had always been instrumental in getting Potter and Weasely out of trouble. No one else would have had enough nerve to steal ingredients from his cupboard. And that he had to admire. Treading on forbidden ground also meant not getting caught. And then that feisty temper of hers. He loved riling her. He would never admit it though. It had something to do with her fierce independence and the need to assert herself, and never lose a battle, verbal or otherwise. Her fierce competitiveness was second only to himself.

When they graduated from Hogwarts a couple of years ago, he was ecstatic at seeing the last of Potter and Weasley, but about her he was not so sure. There had been none since her to raise their hand in response to a question in Potions class. And just when he was getting used to the fact that his Potions class was filled with idiots, she waltzes right back into his life, and right next to him in the Great Hall, munching away on her plum cake, like an absolute glutton. Sure it might appear unhealthy, but then how many women did he know who had a voracious appetite and were not opposed to showing it? He had never been a fan of the i-survive-on-salad-alone types. He sneered in irritation. What were they; rabbits? But shouldn't she exercise _some_ semblance of control? Maybe that's what peeved him; she was his exact opposite. Whilst he led life, sedately, methodically and dignifiedly as he aged, she acted as though she were still a teenager. And she expected to be taken seriously as a Professor. On more than one occasion he had seen her running down the hallways late for class, her bushy excuse for a mane sticking out like an eye sore. But when she laughed, and a real laugh at that, not a muffled giggle in the handkerchief as most women deemed proper, with the light reflecting upon her hair giving them a coppery touch, she came close to being described as beautiful. He yawned, lulled into sleep, acutely aware that he would wake up extremely stiff, but his quarters were otherwise occupied and after going to such great lengths to escape, he wasn't going back.

As the clock turned, he slept fitfully, and it did not help that the dungeons were enveloped by an especially chilly draught at night. He woke up a few minutes before dawn and made his way back to his quarters, coughing fitfully and slightly feverish. But he would worry about that later, all he wanted to do now was crash onto his bed and sleep the sleep of the dead. It was a very welcoming possibility, although he had only a few hours left before the day started. As the land of reality and delusions overlapped, he did what he had not done in a long time, he gave in. After all delusional fantasies were a welcome escape from harsh, cold reality, and besides he was too tired to bother about the consequences of such momentary weakness. He would worry about it later, when he was more coherent and his head did not pound so much.

Much as he hated it, he was being dragged out of his delusions against his will. He could hear pounding, it got louder and louder. He groaned, gingerly touching his hand to his forehead. He couldn't figure out if the pounding was within his head or outside. His skin felt hot beneath his touch, he groaned again. He tried moving his head by a margin and splinters exploded. Immediately he stopped. Meanwhile the pounding grew louder. It took him a while to realize that it came from outside his head, and from outside his door. He cursed audibly. He wished that the unfortunate soul would vaporize instantly and save him the trouble of cursing them to their grave beyond.

'Go away' he mumbled, clutching his pillow tightly. If only the racket would stop.

Outside Hermione now looked worried. Severus had been missing at breakfast and at classes, which was extremely unlike him. He was not the type to vanish into thin air and irresponsibly leave his classes unattended to. He had always made it a point to switch with another Professor in the past when an emergency came up. She bit her lip. She was forced to knock really loudly, but to her chagrin, there was no reply. Now she pounded. She had an uneasy feeling, and her fears were not being reassured, by the man not opening his damn door.

'Professor Snape' she called out, wondering if he could hear her through the oak door.

She called again when there was no answer, raising her voice an octave.

Inside Severus had finished cursing her and had now progressed to her ancestors. He decided to just ignore her, maybe she would just go away and let him suffer in peace. But the knocking and the yelling grew more and more insistent. And he knew that if he did not let her in, she would probably have Dumbledore at his door in no time, and that kind of dramatic scene, he wished to avoid at all costs. He heaved his shoulders, but his elbows refused to support him, to make matters worse, the room began to spin. He scowled. He hated feeling this way. It was not as if he and alcohol had spent a night of debauchery together. And maybe it would not be a bad idea to drink himself senseless right now. He didn't want to feel anything, period.

'Professor Snape, are you alright' yelled Hermione worriedly. 'Let me in.'

Sinking back beneath the covers he muttered the password to open his door. As the door flung open, Hermione ran in and made her way straight to the bedroom, for once ignoring Scoot pawing at her heels. Snape lay with his head beneath his pillow.

Her heart skipping a beat, she was beside him in an instant. 'Professor Snape, what's wrong?' She lifted the pillow tenderly, and was shocked by the ash grey pallor of his face. His breathing was heavy and laboured.

'Go away' he mumbled.

Ignoring him, she felt his forehead burn beneath her palm. She wasn't going anywhere. She ran to the bathroom and opened his cabinet. He must have something in it. He was in no condition to be even taken to the infirmary. And knowing him, he wouldn't like his rare weakness to be made public. Removing the various flasks, she opened them and sniffed them delicately. They weren't marked, but then she knew her basic potions. She found one, with a flower essence that would help bring the pyrexia down. Clutching it, she was back beside him and coaxed him to sit up, gently supporting him.

He did not want to move, every muscle in his body screamed in pain, but at some level, he did realize that she was trying to help. And he desperately wanted the pounding to stop. At that moment he would have gladly sold his soul to the very devil. Gratefully he took a few sips, before lapsing back into deep sleep.

Hermione replaced the covers around him and the pillow beneath his head, as she settled down to wait. There was no way she was going to leave him alone.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Snape languidly stretched himself beneath the covers. It was so warm and peaceful. He opened one eye, and found the sun streaming in through the open window. Something was very odd, rather like a misplaced piece of furniture. What was going on? Why was he still in bed and not at class? Pushing up the sleeve on his left arm, he glanced at his wrist watch which let him know that it was almost noon. He sat upright with a bolt. It was completely unlike him to be so complacent, and then he remembered. Something about him feeling sick and an irritating mosquito buzzing around him. He scowled. And he had no idea why, but he was beginning to get very irritated that she was nowhere to be seen. Sure, he had been a jerk and had told her explicitly without mincing words to get out, but that did not mean she had to run away like a coward! What a sad excuse for a Gryffindor. Shoving the covers off, he stretched himself. Yawning he walked into the kitchen, he needed some black tea. Just as he set foot in, he stopped, appalled at the sight before him.

Hermione was at the stove preparing what suspiciously looked like lunch, and Scoot was lying next to her on his mat playing with his ball! Upon seeing him Scoot got up and lovingly placed his front paws on his legs, wagging his tail vigorously, ecstatic to see his master. Bending down, he tickled it. It seemed alright. Hermione paused what she was doing and turned around.

'Professor Snape, are you alright' and she hurriedly moved towards him. Standing on tiptoe she felt his forehead. 'You're not running a fever are you' she asked anxiously.

'No I'm not' he said curtly. 'Pray, what are you doing in my kitchen?'

'Well, you seem to be looking well. You were really sick yesterday morning.' Saying so, she bustled away towards the stove. 'I've taken the liberty of cooking lunch, and there's a hot pot of tea on the table.'

'How did you even get in?'

'Oh, you let me in yesterday morning.'

He did, did he. He must have been stark raving mad to have let this lunatic inside his quarters. All reassuring memories of her feeding him the right potion, comforting, pampering and generally taking care of him were quickly banished into the deepest recesses. He could feel the muscle above his eyebrow begin to twitch again. He was breathing deeply. As he surveyed the scene before him, he realized that he just couldn't take it anymore. It was just too _domesticated_ complete with the loving wife making lunch, the adorable dog near the hearth. Argh. Before he could stop himself, the words were out of his mouth.

'Leave now!' His voice booked no arguments.

Hermione was startled. She turned around slowly and faced him. His hands were curled into tight fists. She walked slowly towards him.

'I'm just trying to help' she said in a tight voice.

'I didn't ask for, want or need your help' he yelled. He was being extremely unreasonable, even more than usual, but he couldn't help himself. This woman was invading every aspect of his life, permeating his pores like some reprehensible mist. Ever since she came to Hogwarts, his solitude, his privacy, his peace of mind, had all vanished.

'You should be grateful I took care of you when you were sick you dastardly man!'

'You need not have, a little fever would not have killed me! I've faced worse you stupid woman!'

'Well, then maybe I should have left you to suffer you ghastly beast!'

'Much as I would like to entertain you murderous intentions, get out!'

'You can roast in hell for all I care!' Throwing down her apron she almost ran out slamming the door shut behind her.

He exhaled deeply and released his curled fists. He knew he had sunk to an all time low, but he just couldn't help it. He had taken about all he could. He was a grown, self sufficient man. He did not need a chattering, cocooning, crooning woman drawing a web of comfort around him. More like a web of deceit. He sat down at the table and poured himself a cup of tea, inhaling its rich aroma deeply. It had a faint smell of lemon. He had always loved lemon tea. He groaned, sipping his tea gratefully. At the back of his mind he knew he had done something culpable, but then he didn't care to dwell on it. He had what he did not for the past 48 hours, solitude and he intended to fully enjoy it. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Scoot giving him a reproachable look.

'Don't look at me like that. She was getting on my nerves!'

Without a reply, Scoot stalked off, and disappeared beneath the couch. So now, he was being unapproachable too! He sighed.

He spent the day enjoying his seclusion, catching up on some reading from the Journal of Mystical Potions. He checked with Professor McGonagall and found out that his Potions class had been taken by the Professor's of DADA (aka Hermione) and Herbology. He then planned his schedule for the rest of the week, which only included Thursday and Friday. Then he performed a detailed inventory of the ingredients from his private store in the dungeons. That accomplished, he brewed the next batch of potions as per Madame Pomfrey's requirement in the infirmary. He had pretty much managed to pass the day without feeling guilty over the day's activity. Glancing at his watch he saw that it was almost time for dinner. Slipping on his cloak, he made his way to the Great Hall. Hermione was nowhere to be seen. He frowned. She hadn't turned up for lunch either. Well if that woman wanted to sulk, then sulk she could all she wanted. He wasn't going to get in her way! He calmly finished his dinner and retired to his quarters. As he called out to Scoot to come and have his dinner, the mutt ate it without even so much as a by glance and then crawled beneath the couch. It was giving him some serious attitude. And it wouldn't respond to any ear tickling or belly rubbing either. And to top it all, it had a doleful look which it had been wearing since the dramatic scene with that infuriating woman. He scowled. If Scoot was going to sulk, he was going to let him!

The next two days passed uneventfully. Hermione was missing at breakfast, lunch and dinner and Scoot was still sulking. 'Maybe she doesn't want to sit with you anymore' a tiny voice whispered inside his head. That was perfectly alright. He didn't care much for her company either. But by Friday evening, the rest of the staff at Hogwarts including Peeves were maintaining considerable distance from him. He had become an unbearably grumpy wild animal, lashing out at everything and everyone. He couldn't figure out why he was so irritable off late. And he refused to even consider the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he actually missed her. That night when she was once again missing at dinner, he dug his fork with vehemence in his food, causing Professor Flitwick who was on his other side, to think about moving himself and his plate away from him. Snarling, he attacked his dinner and retired to his quarters, in a possibly darker mood.


End file.
